


I’m a Ghost to You, You’re a Ghost to Me

by Midnightminx90



Series: Hosea and family [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Dutch has changed, Family Dynamics, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Ficlet, Found Family, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Musing, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnightminx90/pseuds/Midnightminx90
Summary: Hosea's bigges con was making himself think Dutch ever loved himA conversation between Hosea and Arthur on how Dutch has changed in a short amount of time, from partner and father to someone they no longer know
Relationships: Annebelle/Dutch van der Linde (mentioned), Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde, Bessie Matthews/Hosea Matthews (mentioned), Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Series: Hosea and family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170176
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	I’m a Ghost to You, You’re a Ghost to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title's a slight change of the lyrics in San Louis by Gregory Alan Isakov

“I’ve know people who’ve lost loved ones to various diseases and sicknesses, like tuberculosis and the pox. But this thing with Dutch? It’s something else entirely.” Hosea drags his hand over his face, the other clenching a book. “Doesn’t matter of you believe or not Arthur; pray you’ll never have to witness someone you love lose themselves to madness. It’s worse like this, in a way, not knowing if you could have stopped it or not. If maybe you said or did the right thing, it wouldn’t have happened.”   
  
“Nah, it ain’t your fault,” Arthur says. “Dutch, he… I ain’t sure he ever was the person we thought he was. I owe him a lot, but…”    
  
“But you don’t know if it was worth it.” Hosea’s words are a statement, not a question.   
  
“Yeah. He saved me, took me in, John too, taught us stuff. But that don’t mean he was the only one. Without you, we wouldn’t’ve made it this far. Y’know, I used to be be proud when he called me son, said I was like him. I’d much rather be compared to you.”   
  
“So you’re saying you’d rather be a con man? It’s not a good life, Arthur,” Hosea says, smiling sadly. “But yes, I know what you mean. He used to call me ‘mother hen’, you know, after we took you in. Said I was too protective of you, and of him, but there was always laughter and such affection in his tone then. Now he uses it as an insult.”   
  
“Maybe not, but it sure beats killin’ innocent folks. Or manipulating others into doing the same. In some ways, Dutch in more of a con man than you, but in a bad way. You trick people into thinking us takin’ their stuff is for the best, but at least you don’t kill ‘em. Strauss tricks people too, let them believe they get to pay him back but we all know they ain’t ever gonna be able to do that. He preys on the weak and destitute - you go after the rich folks, the ones who deserve it.” Arthur takes another swig of the bottle he holds. “And he is, well, he’s not wrong to call you that, but it ain’t an insult.”   
  
An owl hoots in the distance, the only sound for a while   
  
“This… thing between us, we never put it into words. I had Bessie, he had Annabelle, but we always drifted back together. Bessie accepted it as readily as she accepted I was a criminal, but I never asked Dutch what his lady thought. I can’t rightly say what choice we would have made had it come to it, but it’s too late to wonder.”   
  
Hosea clutches the book harder.   
  
“I’ve been wondering,” he continues, hearing the sadness in his own voice, feeling the binding of the book Dutch gave him dig into his skin, “if I’m just as much a fool as miss O'Shea. I’ve conned many people, Arthur, but I fear my biggest one was tricking myself into believing he ever loved me.”   
  
Arthur’s hand covers his, and Hosea looks at his first son. Arthur’s eyes are like steel in the moonlight, filled with anger and something that’s close to becoming hatred.   
  
“I can’t rightly tell,” Arthur says. “I thought I knew him, but seems neither of us does. I know it ain’t what you want to hear, but…”   
  
“But neither of us is in this alone,” Hosea finishes.    
  
Arthur nods. “I keep thinking back, trying to figure out when this happened, if it was so gradual that by the time we saw it was too late, or if he was always like this, just hidin’ it too well and Micah brought it out. Maybe we always knew but refused to see. I still can’t tell for sure. I just know he ain’t the person I used to look up to.”   
  
“Remember when we used to give away what we stole? When we were acting like Robin Hood and his gang, taking from the rich and giving to the poor? At some point it became all about survival, about stealing just for the sake of it. Then came the violence. Micah’s part of it, sure, but it started long before he joined.”   
  
Hosea accepts the bottle Arthur passes him, drinking as though it was water instead of moonshine.    
  
“I should’ve listened to you more,” Arthur says, tone sober despite him taking several swigs himself. “Maybe if I had, we’d not be in this mess. If I’d just insisted more, shared more on our plan in Blackwater. Argh, I don’t know, ‘s just wishful thinking.”    
  
“You’re right. But we’ll still be alright, you’ll see. Despite Micah and the O’Driscolls, despite the Pinkertons and the progress of society. We’ll adapt somehow.”   
  
Arthur looks away, then back to Hosea.    
  
“Don’t rightly know I believe you, but do you really think so?” Arthur asks, and now he sounds uncertain, vulnerable, like the child he never was allowed to be.   
  
“I’m sure of it,” Hosea replies, hoping with everything in him that Arthur won’t see through his lie, this con.    
  
“Alright,” Arthur mumbles, voice now slurred from alcohol and a lack of proper sleep.    
  
“Rest now, son,” Hosea says, dropping the book from his hand and bringing his arm around Arthur, drawing him against his own body. “I’ll watch over you.”   
  
“Okay mom,” Arthur mumbles against Hosea’s coat.   
  
Hosea rolls his eyes at him, but smiles fondly.   
It only takes Arthur seconds to fall asleep, snoring softly as his head rests on Hosea’s shoulder.   
  
The older man takes another sip from the bottle, then sighs.   
  
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay away from them Bessie,” Hosea says, looking up at the stars. “Dutch needed me, as much as it pains me to admit. I fear it would have been worse had I stayed away, but I don’t know if staying helped. But most of all, my son needed me and I know you can understand. Arthur might not be flesh and blood, but I love him as one all the same. I wish I’d taken him with me, raised him with you, but I was still loyal and thought he loved me in return.”   
  
Hosea looks down at his son, then plants a kiss on his head.   
  
“No matter what, I’ll always protect you, even if I have to kill the man I love.”


End file.
